Cook my grains for hours

Soak me just as long

grains and wheat aren’t flowers

This ain’t a pretty song

Pressurize my extrusion

After grinding me for hours

Please separate my husk

Or else this song will sour

High pressure equals fluff

If what thoust desires bequeatheth puff

But what we desires requires light pressure

These rhymes are getting tough

So roll me into shape

Triangle is best

Heat me up in special oven

Fry me in oil; rest